Song Of The Wandering Aengus
William Butler Yeats
I went into the hazel wood,
because a fire was in my head.
I cut and peeled a hazel wand,
and hooked a berry to a thread.
And when white moths were on the wing,
and moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
and caught a little silver trout.
And when I laid it on the bank,
and stooped to blow the fire aflame,
then something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name.
It had become a glimmering girl,
With apple blossoms in her hair,
Who called me by my name and ran,
And vanished in the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering,
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And know her mouth and take her hand.
And walk through long green dappled grass,
And pluck till time and time is done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.